The Queen's Colonial

by Peter Watt

  The first stone Ikey picked up was a sapphire the size of an acorn, and passed it to the young man, who had retrieved a small magnifying glass. He studied the stone, and Ian could read his expression. This was a very valuable object. The young man passed it to Ikey, leaning down to whisper in his ear. Ikey nodded.

  ‘My son has told me that the sapphire is worth a Queen’s ransom,’ he said. ‘I do not have the kind of money to pay for it.’

  ‘You can have it,’ Ian said. ‘All you have to do is find someone for me in London. A lady, whose life is far more precious to me than the value of the stone. Her name is Miss Jane Wilberforce.’

  ‘Your offer is very generous, Captain Forbes,’ Ikey said.

  ‘Miss Williams has praised your ability to be able to find anyone in London,’ Ian said, retrieving the sapphire from the desk. ‘It will be yours when you are able to locate the lady.’

  ‘If she is alive, I promise you, I will find her,’ Ikey said. ‘And now, let us settle on a price for the rest of your jewellery. I can see it is of Russian origin, but I will not ask you where it came from. I will be generous with you because I have heard that you killed many Russians who forced my family from the Motherland. You have my gratitude.’

  The morning went smoothly, with the Jewish merchant giving Ian a generous price. Paper currency was retrieved by Ikey’s son, and counted on the desk. Ian was stunned by the amount of money Ikey Solomon was able to retrieve on such short notice. It was indeed a small fortune. Business over, the four left the office.

  ‘I thought that we had done well out of the baggage train,’ Conan said, shaking his head as they walked along the busy street.

  ‘I suspected that you had,’ Ian smiled. ‘I could tell when we returned to our lines that you had a swagger in your step.’

  ‘All our money has gone to Molly, who has invested our shares in purchasing a shop in one of the better London addresses. Molly feels that a confectionary shop will be our retirement fund in a few years’ time when we do the service we signed up for.’

  Ian glanced at Molly, walking beside Conan with a confident expression. She was a remarkable young lady, he thought, and could see that she was very much smitten with Conan.

  ‘I would presume that Corporal Curry is going to make an honest woman of you, Miss Williams,’ Ian said with a warm smile, causing Molly to blush.

  ‘He has not asked me, sir,’ she said.

  ‘I will when my enlistment is up,’ Conan quickly said. ‘I would hope you would be there for the wedding when the time comes, sir,’ he added.

  ‘I would be honoured, Conan,’ Ian replied. ‘But do not wait too long to propose, because from what I can see, Miss Williams is one of the fairest ladies in London.’

  Conan beamed at the praise of the lady he loved, and the four decided that they should stop at a tavern to celebrate the business negotiation outcome. After that, Ian would deposit his money in an account at a prestigious London bank, and face the moment he had dreaded since returning to England. He would go to the Forbes residence in London, and meet with Alice.

  Thirty-Four

  Although it had been months since Herbert was killed in action, the mood in the London house was just as sombre as the day he had died. Ian deliberately did not wear his uniform because the sight of it might upset Alice.

  Ian was met by Alice and Peter.

  ‘It is good to see that you have returned to us safely,’ Alice said, tears welling in her eyes. ‘I cannot afford to lose another brother.’

  Peter greeted Ian warmly, and the three sat down in the parlour to partake of tea and sweet cakes.

  ‘Peter has told me that you were present when Herbert was killed,’ Alice said. ‘Was his death mercifully quick?’

  Ian glanced at Peter. ‘A musket ball took Herbert’s life, and when I found him, it was as if he had simply gone to sleep,’ he lied. How could he tell Alice of the terrible mutilation of her beloved brother’s body, smashed by the grape shot from a Russian cannon? Peter made a slight nod of agreement, although he also knew the truth. It was better to lie than tell the truth of war to those left behind, who had never been exposed to the harsh realities of modern warfare.

  ‘Peter has confided to me that you blame yourself for Herbert’s death,’ Alice said. ‘It was not right that I should make you promise to keep our brother alive. I do not think that is right, after all Peter has told me of the terrible conditions you all suffered. Peter feels that only sheer luck is the real answer to who lived and died in the Crimea.’

  Ian did not want to admit to himself that young Herbert had grown to be like a real brother to him, and forced back the tears when he remembered around the campfires Herbert confessed his terrible fear of dying, or being mutilated. Ian had no answer for him then, nor could simply say that Herbert’s luck had simply run out.

  ‘I blame Charles for Herbert’s death,’ Alice said bitterly, reaching for a dainty handkerchief to wipe the tears from her eyes. ‘He and that ghastly Major Jenkins.’

  ‘Jenkins!’ Ian exclaimed. ‘What do you know of him?’

  ‘I accidentally found a letter addressed to Charles from him,’ Alice said, wiping the tears from her eyes. ‘It appears that Charles and Major Jenkins were corresponding. In his letter from Major Jenkins, he intimated that he would ensure the problem of you and Herbert would be dealt with. When I questioned Charles on the nature of Major Jenkins’ words, he replied that the Major meant keeping an eye on your welfare. I do not believe him.’

  Ian looked at Peter. Both men frowned.

  ‘Do you still have that letter?’ Ian asked, but Alice shook her head.

  ‘He retrieved it from me, and I believe he may have destroyed it,’ she replied.

  ‘In all good faith, I cannot blame Major Jenkins for the death of Herbert, as our regiment took the brunt of the fighting at the Redan, and we almost lost our colonel to wounds that day. But Jenkins is still a man I personally despise as a cowardly and incompetent officer of the Queen,’ Ian said.

  The tea and cakes arrived, carried by a young servant girl on a silver platter.

  Peter attempted to steer the conversation away from the sad reflections on the death of Herbert with news of the up-and-coming wedding between he and Alice. He asked Ian to be the best man, and Ian readily accepted.

  When Ian departed after lunch, he did so with the thought that Jenkins was in league with Charles, and that while the major had any dealings with the regiment, Ian would have to watch his back. At least Ian had the consolation that whilst Jenkins remained with brigade HQ, he had little opportunity to interfere with the regiment. For the moment, all Ian could think about was finding Jane.

  *

  Molly was an astute businesswoman, but accepted that she was gambling with the combined funds to set up a confectionary shop. She had purchased the property in a well-off suburb of London, renovated the premises, and set up the shop to appeal to the senses of sight and smell, stocking such sweets as marshmallow, marzipan, liquorice, toffee, boiled lollies and, of particular speciality, Turkish Delight. Molly had acquired a recipe from the kindly Catholic nun who had lived in Constantinople while they worked together in the British hospital. The business had just about absorbed all the money that she, Conan and Owen had, plus Edwin’s share. Before her grand opening, Molly had paid generously the poverty-stricken children of her old neighbourhood to distribute leaflets advertising her sweet wares, and on opening day, was rewarded with the more affluent members of London stopping by to examine and purchase her confectionaries. Both Conan and Owen, wearing their dress uniforms with medals on their chests, welcomed the customers at the door, appealing to their sense of patriotism upon meeting the two fine examples of England’s victory over the Russian Tsar. The Turkish Delight proved her bestselling confectionary.

  At the end of a very successful day, the three retreated to the residence above the shop, counting t
he substantial earnings, and opened a fine bottle of Scotch to celebrate. With adoring eyes, Conan gazed at Molly and raised his glass. ‘This is for you, Edwin. I wish you could have been here today.’

  Both Conan and Owen well knew that they had years to serve before the army would release them from their service. They could soon easily be facing another of the Queen’s enemies in some far-off, almost unknown part of the expanding British Empire. For Conan, it was a long way from the colony of New South Wales and the life he may have led there if he had continued in his life of crime.

  *

  It was a windswept day in the Kentish countryside when Ian stood in the little Anglican church that provided spiritual comfort to the nearby village adjacent to the Forbes manor. The memorial service for Herbert and the other men from the county who had been killed in the Crimean War was over. On a board attached to the wall, Ian could see Herbert’s name engraved with gold paint. Alice, Sir Archibald and Dr Peter Campbell had attended the service, but Charles was conspicuously absent. He had apologised but business affairs in London had intervened.

  Ian stood wearing his dress uniform and medals, gazing at Herbert’s name.

  ‘You have my condolences for the loss of your brother,’ a voice said, and Ian turned to see the elderly Anglican priest who had officiated at the service.

  ‘Thank you,’ Ian replied. ‘You have ministered to your flock for many years in this parish but I am afraid I was not a very attentive parishioner when I was very young.’

  ‘It has proved to be a spiritually rewarding life,’ the minister agreed. ‘I do remember how you appeared a long way in your thoughts from my sermons.’ The minister smiled.

  ‘Was a young woman, Miss Jane Wilberforce, one of your parishioners?’ Ian asked, and saw the dark cloud cross the man’s face.

  ‘I am afraid that she was not,’ the minister answered. ‘It was whispered that Miss Wilberforce was more devoted to the old pagan gods of the Druids. I pray that she may one day turn to the one, and only true Lord, our saviour, Jesus Christ.’

  ‘I have been seeking the whereabouts of Miss Wilberforce, and wonder if you may have heard any rumours of her sudden disappearance,’ Ian said.

  ‘One of my elderly parishioners did comment that she thinks the stone circle on the hill has spirited her away. Miss Wilberforce is somewhat a little unhinged, and I wonder if the unfounded rumours of her being a witch are nothing more than the echoes around these parts of magic and superstition, leftover from that time when the Druids ruled these parts in pre-history. All that I have heard is that Miss Wilberforce travelled to London.’

  ‘Who told you that?’ Ian asked.

  ‘I heard it from your brother, Charles, some time ago, at a church function to raise money for our parish poor.’

  ‘Thank you, reverend,’ Ian said and walked outside the medieval church into the sunshine.

  ‘Are you returning to the house?’ Alice asked, pushing back her black, gauzy veil. ‘It would be of comfort if you did.’

  ‘I will stay the night,’ Ian said. ‘But I must return to London to attend a regimental dinner at the barracks tomorrow night. The colonel is retiring and we will learn of the identity of our newly appointed colonel of the regiment.’

  ‘It should have been you,’ Peter said bluntly. ‘After all, you assumed command after the colonel was wounded, and from what the rank and file told me, you were the best commander they ever had.’

  Ian was flattered by the compliment. ‘Alas, the family funds do not extend to purchasing a colonelcy,’ Ian said. ‘I will remain a mere captain, but at least I will have my company.’

  The three rode in a carriage drawn by two fine horses, and arrived at the country manor. Already, Ian was planning to saddle a horse and ride to the village. He offered money for information concerning the disappearance of Jane, but was unsuccessful. He also noticed the sullen expressions from the local people who distrusted outsiders when he spoke with them in the village streets.

  At dusk, Ian mounted his horse to ride back to the manor in the long summer evening when he came close to the copse of trees on the small hill of the stone circle, overlooking the valley and fields of yellowing wheat below. He noticed an expensive, single-horse carriage stopped by the side of a laneway, where a driver sat on his bench seat without his passenger. Curious as to why anyone would be near the hill of the Druids, Ian dismounted a few yards away, secured his horse to graze, and chose to walk to the top of the hill.

  He was almost at the top when he saw her. Ian gasped in his shock and for a few seconds, was transfixed.

  ‘Jane!’ Ian cried out in his joy, clambering to the top of the hill to join her.

  The woman turned to face Ian and he was once again looking into the face of the woman he loved.

  ‘Excuse me, but I am not Jane,’ said the woman with the raven hair and green eyes. ‘I am Rebecca, Jane’s twin sister. I presume that you must be Captain Ian Steele.’

  Ian came to a stop a couple of paces away, stunned by the revelation of the existence of the twin sister Jane had never mentioned, and the fact that she knew his real identity. Ian was confused and mystified by the appearance of this woman who was physically identical to his love in every way.

  ‘You know my name,’ he said. ‘How do you know my real name?’

  ‘Jane would write to me, and she told me how much in love she was with you,’ Rebecca said. ‘I envied her words of love. She would describe you as one of the ancient warriors of days past, and even told me that she was carrying your baby. From what I can see, I can understand why she loved you so much.’

  As Rebecca’s words flowed, Ian was overcome by emotion. It was as if the spirit of Jane was speaking to him, from wherever she was. ‘Why did not Jane mention you?’ Ian asked.

  ‘We were separated at birth, and I was sold to Lord Montegue and his wife, who were unable to have children. I was not aware of my birthright until I was eighteen years old, and my father on his deathbed confessed to who I really was, and that I had a twin sister living in the village. My adoptive mother had died years earlier, and I inherited the family estates when Lord Montegue passed on. Lord Montegue had always been a warm and loving father, and his dying wish was that I knew I was not alone. I was able to find Jane, and from the moment we met, we knew we were true sisters. It was Jane who swore me to secrecy concerning our relationship, lest it be detrimental to my standing in London society.’

  There is one other who holds me to this village who I cannot tell you about. Jane’s words came to Ian as he listened to Rebecca. So this was her kindred spirit.

  ‘We shared our secrets, and one of them was you,’ Rebecca continued. ‘But you do not need to be concerned, because your secret is safe with me, as mine was with my sister.’

  ‘Do you know where Jane is?’ Ian asked.

  ‘No. The last communication I had with Jane was a week before she just disappeared into thin air. That was over a year past now. I had planned for Jane to leave the village and join me at the family manor and leave that wretched Charles Forbes behind but she said that was not necessary as you had entered her life. I have spent the last months attempting to find her and I confess that I am concerned for her welfare.’

  ‘I was told that she went to London,’ Ian said. ‘I, too, have people searching for her at any cost.’

  ‘As she was with your child, it does not make sense that she would simply go to London, and not contact you or I,’ Rebecca said. ‘I fear that harm has come to her.’

  ‘That has crossed my mind,’ Ian said, staring at the circle of stones. ‘Why did you come to this place?’

  ‘Jane once told me it was a place of peace for her, and was linked to her meeting with you,’ Rebecca answered. ‘I was curious to see the stones. I feel she is close to me here in a way I do not expect you to understand. It is just something of a strange bond between those born as twins. We wer
e different but, at the same time, joined in life by our souls.’

  Ian gazed into the face of Rebecca, and partially understood what she meant. It was as if he was in the actual company of his beloved Jane. ‘Do you know who might have wished your sister harm?’ he asked. Rebecca’s expression darkened.

  ‘There was one man whose name she mentioned as a person she despised – Charles Forbes – your supposed brother.’

  The mention of Charles brought back memories of how he had attempted to have he and Dr Peter Campbell killed in an ambush, though neither man could prove his conspiracy in the matter. ‘I would support Charles as a person who might be involved in Jane’s disappearance,’ Ian said. ‘But we need proof of his complicity, and I highly doubt that he would confess if confronted. Does he know of your existence?’

  ‘No. We have never met. I have spent most of my life living in Italy and France where my family had estates,’ Rebecca said.

  Ian could see black clouds rolling in that promised a drenching downpour instead of the current sleeting rain. ‘I think it may be wise if we made our way back to your carriage,’ he said. ‘Otherwise we may be caught in the rain I feel is coming.’

  Rebecca agreed, and they walked side by side down the hill to the laneway. They stopped at Rebecca’s carriage.

  ‘I would like to meet with you again, Captain Steele,’ she said. ‘I feel that we have much to talk about.’

  ‘I would like that,’ Ian replied.

  Ian stood for a moment, watching her being assisted into the carriage by her driver, and thought how much her mannerisms reminded him of Jane. The carriage drove away, and Ian mounted his horse to return to the Forbes estate. As he rode, he thought about the strange circle of stones, and how they seemed to be of great importance in his life. They had at least brought him into contact with the other half of Jane, and he vaguely remembered how Jane had said she had a secret of her own. Now he knew what it was.